


Still Life

by poisontaster



Series: Dying of the Lightverse [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Anal Sex, Desperation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-10-24
Updated: 2007-10-24
Packaged: 2018-05-04 19:03:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5345108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisontaster/pseuds/poisontaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It's dark in the tunnels, but Sam knows Dean's body perfectly well in the dark.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [brynwulf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brynwulf/gifts).



It's dark in the tunnels, but Sam knows Dean's body perfectly well in the dark.

For a while, they just stand there, breathing into each other's mouths, barely touching. They've always been a strange amalgam of _touch_ and _don't_ touch; casual but not intimate. Most of the time. But it's different now, an understatement that makes Sam laugh…or would if he didn't feel so much like crying sometimes.

But he craves it now, Dean's touch. He thinks Dean's the same, because it seems like they've always got their hands on each other and on the kids. Not sexual—most of the time—so much as a desire to be grounded in each other. To make each other real through the laying on of hands, perhaps the final act of faith they have.

But when it's _other_ , when it's sexual, lately it's always like this. In the dark. Away from everyone else.

Sam flinches when Dean's hands touch his face, even though he felt the rumble of Dean's movement through their half-meshed bones. Dean's skin feels so warm. After that initial startle, Sam turns his face into it, eyes closed.

"I wish I could see you," Dean murmurs. And then he gives Sam no chance to respond, lips crushing down and stealing all Sam's breath.

They fuck in silence and Sam wishes for the days when Dean would purr filth and promises into his ears, dark, growly sex-voice, rasping thrilling over each of Sam's nerves. At the same time, he didn't _have_ Dean then. Not like this. And then Sam doesn't know what he wants. Which has been his problem for much longer than this current crisis.

Sam digs his nails into Dean's hips and comes inside him, blotted, wasted, except for the reverberating echo of Dean's name inside his head. He's limp when Dean turns him into the wall and thrusts in with slick, knowing fingers.

Fifty-one days. Fifty-one days since it all went to hell and each one of them feels more like a year. The countdown continues in Sam's head endlessly, like some kind of Doomsday clock…except that Doomsday has already come and gone and they're still here.

Sam's nails scrabble on the walls when Dean pushes into him with his cock. He rises onto his toes like he's trying to escape and then sinks back gingerly, letting Dean open him and focusing on the burn. Dean's fingers smooth up Sam's sides, plinking over his ribs, skim his pebble hard nipples and then wake the fine hairs on Sam's arms to attention as Dean traces the bones until his palms flatten over Sam's, fingers linking.

The first thrust is too hard, uncontrolled; Sam just bucks forward and Dean undulates with him. Dean's teeth nip, right at Sam's hairline, a rebuke. Sam braces his feet, tightens his arms, pushing back when Dean slams into him again. It's better, sweeter and Dean pants out against Sam's shoulder while Sam savages his tongue between his teeth.

They're far enough away from the others that they probably don't have to be this quiet, but this is their habit now. The grown-ups know—or guess—they're fucking and whatever their thoughts about two brothers together, they know they need Sam and Dean too much to make a fuss. Miria knows, and that's when the shame comes scalding up from Sam's belly because that was never supposed to happen. The other kids…Sam likes to believe they don't know—Kait and Evan and little Jake—but he doesn't really _know_ and he's afraid to ask. Better not to know.

But this… How many times have he and Dean tried to give each other up? How many times have they said goodbye without hearing the attached _for now_? Sam's done fighting this, done trying to push away something that he now understands is as much a part of him as the DNA that binds them. There's just Dean and their kids and the next day to get through.

"Sammy," Dean whispers against Sam's nape when he comes, shivering and tight-clenched, buried deep and trying to rock deeper. Sam shoves back further into the circle of his brother's arms, clashing their twined knuckles together hard until the bones grate.

"Bear thinks he's figured out how to reroute power to get the cameras on the surface operational again," Sam says when the sweetness of Dean in him has turned to an ache and they're both breathing normally but Dean's made no move to…well, _move_.

Sam understands; he'd like to stay too, linger over it, take pleasure in the contact of one another's flesh. But it's only fifty-one days out and they're still too close to the ragged edge. It's bad enough that they steal these moments at all, sinful indulgences.

Dean's forehead scrapes dully down Sam's scapula, his sigh whispering across sweat-dampened skin to raise new crops of goose bumps. His hips shift and so does his cock and Sam spasms a little when Dean leaves him. "The question is, do we really want to waste power on it?"

Dean steps away, giving Sam the leeway to turn around. There's a papery, tearing noise and then Dean's pressing the wet wipe into Sam's palm. Clean-up is fast and sloppy, but better than nothing. Water needs to be preserved, but there's wipes aplenty. They make do. They manage.

"I figure we don't have to keep it on. Turn it on once a day, get the lay of the land." He bumps Dean with his body, makes it seem semi-accidental, but really, it's that few extra seconds contact. He knows Dean's figured him out, though, when he shoves Sam back into the wall and kisses him hard. "We're not going to be here forever," Sam breathes, when they finally pull apart.

The tip of Dean's nose rubs over Sam's. "Yeah," Dean agrees, too late to be convincing.

Sam's fingers tighten on Dean's shirt. "Dean." He bends and mouths across his brother's throat, stubble and pulsing blood burning his lips.

Dean sighs. "I know."

"We're still here." Sam says the words against Dean's skin, wanting them to sink deep. "We're still together."

Dean reaches between Sam's legs and cups him through his jeans. Even spent, Sam still twitches in response. "We're still alive," Dean agrees, more solidly, and then they close again.


End file.
